Badlands (27 page)

Kyle thought about the back door and was sure he hadn't locked it. He started to move that way when he heard the thump of boots on the back stairs.

Kyle doubled back and ran to his bedroom and rolled under his bed.

*   *   *

“ANYBODY HOME?”
the cop called out from the kitchen.

It was dirty and cold under the bed. Kyle lay still on his belly in the dust motes, the shaft of the arrow in his right hand. There was an old balled-up sock under there and a pair of white briefs he hadn't seen for months. He clamped his jaws tight to try and prevent his teeth from chattering.

“Hey, is anyone home? T-Lock, are you here? Gig's up, man.”

Kyle heard the cop clomp around. Into his mom's bedroom, into the bathroom, through the living room. The accordion doors of the laundry closet squeaked open and then shut.

In a moment he saw the bottom of his own door swing open. Kyle could see the lower half of a big pair of snow-covered boots.

“Anyone here?”

Kyle tried not to breathe in. The dust on the floor was thick and he didn't want to choke or sneeze.

The cop moved from the door to his closet. Kyle could hear the rustle of clothing as the man shoved his clothes aside. Then he waited for the cop to drop to his hands and knees and find him.

Kyle gripped so hard on the shaft of the arrow he could barely feel his fingers. He'd aim for an eye.

“Crap,” the cop said, and turned on his heel and left the bedroom.

Kyle closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. He could feel his heart beat in his chest.

The cop strode through his house toward the back door. Kyle heard the chirp of a cell phone and heard the cop say, “Nobody home,” and continue on as he went out the back door.

He waited for he didn't know how long. It felt like an hour. Then Kyle slithered out from beneath his bed. He was covered in dust, the front of his clothing white from it. He wiped it off his face.

When he went into the kitchen he saw that the cop car was gone. But Kyle wondered about the white block the cop had pressed against his bike tire.

He pulled on his coat and went outside. The cold stung him immediately on his face and hands, but he retraced the steps of the cop to the side of his house.

His bike was fine, but there was a fine white powder on the black rubber of his tires and within the tread. It made no sense to Kyle and he shook his head.

Then he noticed something he hadn't noticed before. Apparently, the cop had missed it, too, or had not realized what it meant.

The snow was trampled down all around the washing machine, and the layer of snow on top had been disturbed. Someone had been there and had relocated the chain, although it was still locked tight with a heavy padlock.

T-Lock had told his mom a couple of days before that he'd moved the duffel bag out of the house so it couldn't be found there. But Kyle knew T-Lock. The man never did anything beyond the bare minimum.

“Out of the house” could mean “to the side of the house.”

And T-Lock had been there when Kyle arrived, maybe checking on his stash. Maybe retrieving a little of it for personal use.

Kyle didn't have any idea where T-Lock kept his keys or if there was a spare key to the padlock somewhere inside the house. His mom might know, but …

Tears filled Kyle's eyes again when he thought of her face through the bloody window, and he stamped his foot out of frustration.

There were ways to cut through a chain, he knew. Raheem's dad had a bunch of tools in his garage. Maybe he could borrow some kind of cutter.

And with the duffel bag back, Kyle could save his mom. After all, he'd found it in the first place.

*   *   *

KYLE RAN
up the steps and was halfway through the kitchen when T-Lock reached out and grabbed his arm and said, “What in the
fuck
were you doing out there, you little shit?”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

T-LOCK LOOKED
bad, Kyle thought. His eyes were sunken and hollow, and his hair was matted on the side of his head. He sat on a chair near the table but maintained his firm grip on Kyle's arm. When he leaned in, Kyle could smell cigarette smoke and alcohol. His glassy eyes said something else was working in there, too.

T-Lock said, “Everything's gone to shit because I'm surrounded by fuckin' morons. Why is it everybody I know is a fuckin' moron? Why is it, Kyle?”

Kyle shook his head. T-Lock seemed dangerous.

“All I ask Winkie to do is set up a meeting. I tell him what to say and what to do. I make him repeat it back to me three times. Then he goes off and just fucking disappears.”

T-Lock shook his head. “And your mom, man, I know she's your mom and all, but all she had to do is make change at McDonald's. I wasn't asking her to do fucking brain surgery. Just make change. So I go in there a few minutes ago to see her and they tell me she walked off the job. Just walked away! And now
she's
gone. Fuck me.”

T-Lock looked up and his eyes bored into Kyle. He grasped Kyle's other arm and pulled him closer. “Tell me where she is. She's got my money, Kyle. I know you know. I can see it in your damned face.”

Kyle said, “Some men took her outside of McDonald's. I saw them drive away with her in a truck. Her face was bloody. I chased it but I couldn't catch it.”

“Jesus Christ,” T-Lock said, grimacing. “How many men?”

“I saw three.”

“Three? Three? Who were they? Were they cops?”

“No. It was that same truck that was outside of the house this morning.”

That struck a nerve in T-Lock and he looked away and cursed.

Kyle tried to wriggle free of T-Lock's hands but his grip was too tight.

“I saw those three guys,” T-Lock said. “Two greasers and someone in the back. California plates. I kept going when I saw them. Oh man, oh
shit
.”

Kyle heard T-Lock's cell phone burr from his front jeans pocket.

“You just stay right here, Kyle. Don't you fucking move,” T-Lock said as he released Kyle, leaned back, and fished in his pants for his phone. First he removed a ring of keys and tossed them on the top of the table, then came the phone.

T-Lock stared at the screen but didn't answer it.

“It's her phone,” he said.

“Aren't you going to talk to her?” Kyle asked, upset. He thought of his mom holding her phone up to her bloody face. Was she somewhere warm?

“I gotta think,” T-Lock said, running his free hand through his hair. “If they still have her they'll want to trade her for my stash. Then I'll end up with nothing.”

Kyle felt his face and neck get hot. “What about my
mom?
” he screamed.

T-Lock stood and looked down at him with contempt. The phone in his hand burred two more times and stopped. He said, “Kyle, you're a fuckin' retard. You think they'll let her go after she's seen their faces? Get a clue, man. If I do what they want they'll get that product back and they'll kill her, and then they'll kill
me
.”

Kyle stepped back.

The phone rang again. T-Lock glanced at the screen and said to it, “Leave me the fuck alone, greasers. Go back to California or Mexico or wherever the hell you're from.”

Kyle said, “Let me talk to her.”

T-Lock rolled his eyes and said, “Not a chance. We don't need any drama.”

“But what if it's really her?” Kyle pleaded. “What if she got away or something? She needs our help.”

“She didn't get away from three guys. I doubt that she's even breathing. They took her phone away from her and they want me to show up with the duffel bag so they can take it and cut my head off like they did to Rufus.”

“You've got to do something,” Kyle said, tears stinging his eyes again. “It's my
mom
.”

T-Lock took a deep breath. He said, “The best thing we can do for her right now is not answer this phone. If she's even alive, and I doubt that, they will have lost the only thing they have to bargain with. They'll keep trying to talk to me in the meantime. So get out of my face so I can
think
.”

“You're a liar,” Kyle said. “You're gonna make it so they hurt her.”

“Don't call me that, you little shit.”

“Liar. You're a liar. You're going to get my mom killed because you're scared of them.”

“I ain't scared of nobody,” T-Lock said, and swung his right fist. Kyle tried to duck out of the way but the blow glanced off the side of his head and he dropped and saw stars. T-Lock kept coming.

Kyle dived under the table where he doubted T-Lock would follow. But T-Lock was really angry this time, and he'd dropped to his hands and knees while Kyle scrambled away. T-Lock reached for his foot between the chairs but Kyle was able to wrench it free.

He emerged on the other side of the table before T-Lock was back on his feet. Kyle plucked the set of keys from the top and ran, stepping over T-Lock's outstretched hand.

“Come back here with my keys, you little shit!”

Kyle ran into his room and slammed the door shut. He had no way to lock it. Instead, he got behind his bed and started pushing it with his full weight toward the door. The legs made a moaning sound as they scraped across the floor and the foot of the bed was nearly to the door when T-Lock threw it open.

The door slammed into the bed but wasn't fully open. There was about six inches of space and T-Lock shoved one of his arms through it. T-Lock's hand was balled into a fist. Kyle leaned into the bed and tried to shove it further. T-Lock cursed and pushed against the door. There wasn't enough of an opening for T-Lock to squeeze inside. Kyle could see T-Lock's red face.

“Kyle, I'm not kidding. I need those keys back and then I'm gonna whip your ass.”

Kyle grunted and tried to set his feet so the door couldn't open any more.

“Goddamn it!” T-Lock shouted, then threw himself against the door and Kyle was knocked back. Before he could regain his balance and start shoving again, T-Lock slithered through the opening and stepped on top of the bed.

Kyle could hear the phone burring again in T-Lock's pocket. His mom. Then it stopped.

The look on T-Lock's face was murderous. Kyle had seen him mad before—many times—but never this mad.

“Where are my fucking
keys
?”

Kyle didn't see the boot coming, but it caught him hard under his arm and sent him sprawling. He slid across the dirty floor. He saw stars again and couldn't get his breath.

T-Lock stepped down from the bed and put his hands on his hips.

“I thought your mother was dumb but you're even dumber, if that's possible.”

The phone chimed, which meant a text message.

Kyle rolled away moaning, trying to get air. He found his progress stopped by his River Box. It had remained in place while Kyle pushed the bed away. He turned to reach inside the box.

The next kick hit him hard in his butt, right on his tailbone. Kyle writhed and gasped, but reached inside the River Box and closed his hand around the shaft of the arrow.

When T-Lock bent over and reached down to pull him to his feet by his coat collar, Kyle drove the arrow deep into T-Lock's neck.

T-Lock was surprised. He let go of Kyle and stepped back and sat down on the bed. His eyes were wide with wonder, and he turned toward Kyle's bedroom mirror to look at himself and the arrow shaft sticking out of his neck. He reached up and gently touched the fletching as if to confirm to himself it was actually there.

He tried to speak but the only sounds to come out were guttural.

Kyle gathered himself up, panting for breath. His head throbbed and his right arm didn't want to respond. His backside was numb and cold.

He shoved T-Lock over on the bed so he was out of the way. T-Lock didn't fight back. He just flopped over to the side and lay there. Kyle reached into T-Lock's pants pocket and got the phone. Before he did, he put his fingers near T-Lock's nostrils. He was still breathing. Then he started to moan. It was a horrible, deep-inside-the-chest moan. Kyle felt bad for him but he knew if he had to do it all over again he would have done the same thing.

With the keys in one hand and the phone in the other, Kyle leapt onto the bed and jumped out the door.

*   *   *

HE PUT
the keys in his coat pocket and then looked at the message on T-Lock's phone screen.

It said it was from his mom.
PICK UP, YOU ASSHOLE.

Kyle texted back.
MOM? THIS IS KYLE. U OK?

Then Kyle punched 911 on the house phone again and set the receiver aside. That 911 lady would be able to hear the moans coming from the back bedroom. He sure didn't want to talk to her again.

As he trudged around to the side of the house toward his bike the phone chimed again. Another text.

It read:
WHERE R U, KYLE?

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CASSIE KNOCKED
on Willie Dietrich's farmhouse door while Ian Davis stood behind her. His hand was on the grip of his service weapon. It was still. The towering skeletal trees in the yard were dotted with starlings that looked double their actual size because they were so puffed up against the cold.

“That's his Range Rover in the garage,” Davis said through chattering teeth. “So I'm guessing he's here.”

Cassie knocked again, harder. It hurt her knuckles through her thin gloves.

Finally, she heard footfalls inside.

“Someone's coming,” she said, and stepped slightly to the side to widen Davis's field of fire.

The front door cracked open an inch.

“Willie Dietrich?” Cassie asked.

“Not hardly.” It was a woman's voice, deep and slightly Southern. “Willie ain't here.”

From somewhere inside, another female asked, “Who is it, LaDonna?”